DonoSlane Exc 'A potentially hazardous cargo'
by csThor
Summary: Myn takes over a routine delivery for Kirney but he finds out that some jobs aren't as easy as they seem to be.
1. Chapter 1

_**DonoSlane Excursions – A (potentially) hazardous cargo**_

**Dramatis Personae:  
**  
Kirney Slane (human female from Coruscant)  
Myn Donos (human male from Corellia)  
Selan Donos (human male from Corellia – Myn's father - OC)  
Jaleela Donos (human female from Corellia – Myn's mother - OC)_  
_Kolot (modified Ewok male from Endor)  
Rostek Horn (human male from Corellia)  
Iella Wessiri (human female from Corellia)  
Doman Beruss (human female from Corellia)

**Timeframe: **~ six months after "X-Wing : Isard's Revenge"  
**Previous Stories:** "Reevaluation"; "Putting down roots"

**Coronet City  
10.1 ABY**

"Ow!" Jaleela almost dropped the spoon when her lips reminded her why trying too hot food was generally a bad idea. "Sithspit!"

"Shall Kolot try?"

Jaleela twisted her neck and shot the Ewok a wry look. "Remember when you wanted to _try_ the gravy for the bantha steaks?"

Kolot gave a huff of righteous indignation. "Gravy was off. Took a while to season correctly."

"You don't say!" Myn's mother turned around and put her hands on her hips. "Your palatine is usually a lot better in tune than this. Or was there a particular reason why I did have to make new gravy 'cause you didn't leave enough?"

The Ewok raised his hands. "Not been Kolot's intention."

"_In dubio pro reo_, huh?" Jaleela narrowed her eyes but a corner of her lips rose to paint a smirk on her face. "I'll let you off the hook this time."

The Ewok bowed. "Kolot thanks, your honor."

She gave a snort of amusement and picked up a small plate from the sink. She put a spoonful of the steaming stew onto the plate and held it out to Kolot. "Here. Try it and tell me what you think."

He moved forward with a look of eagerness on his face and grabbed the plate from Jaleela's hand. A few noisy slurps later he smacked his lips with just as much ferocity and half-closed his eyes. "A bit on the bland side. Kolot thinks a pinch of the spice mix would be good."

She frowned slightly and dunked her spoon into the stew to try it herself. Taking a very careful sip she let it swirl around her tastebuds before swallowing. "Hmmm," she muttered and smacked her lips as well. "You're right. Tastes a bit flat. Needs some salt, too."

The Ewok tilted his head. "Isn't senior Donos on low-salt diet?"

"You know that?" Jaleela looked at him in surprise. "I didn't think he wanted anyone to know."

An all-too human grin formed on Kolot's face. "Complained too loudly about not able to eat salted crackers when watching Slingball on HoloNet. Cursed doctor six ways to Coruscant."

Myn's mother gave a low chuckle while she pried open the container with the spice mix. "Yes, he was rather annoyed at being told to take it easy for a while."

Kolot nodded. "Kirney told. Said Kolot should have eye on senior Donos, keep him from digging into salty snacks."

Jaleela guffawed and bit her lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. "So that's why he was so ticked off at you." She gave him a merry look over her shoulder, eyes twinkling, while she stirred the stew. "And I thought you'd eaten his dinner or something."

"Oh, Kolot did." He grinned again. "Did eat salted Warra nuts and left none to senior Donos."

Now Jaleela did burst out laughing. "You can do this anytime you want. Best way to do something about his health."

"Very well," the Ewok responded and rubbed his paws gleefully. "Provides soothing balm for two problems - Kolot's appetite and Selan's blood values."

Hammer blows from above interrupted them and made them look up at the ceiling. "Kolot cannot get used to noise," he said and shook his head. "Always thinks ceiling comes down any moment."

Myn's mother winced as the screech of the vibro-buzzsaw drifted through the house. "I am beginning to think Kirney had the right idea. I wish I'd taken her up on the offer to come along."

One story above the saw continued its painful song and Kolot put his paws over the ears. "Kolot no likes. Hurts ears."

When Myn had unexpectedly returned to his home planet just three months ago he and Kirney had suddenly faced the problem of living accomodations. The tiny apartment she'd rented was barely big enough for herself and her two eternal companions and with rents at a ten-year peak she couldn't afford a larger flat. Myn's old room in the attic wasn't big enough for their needs, either, but then Selan had pointed out that the attic itself was a lot bigger - and mostly unused. On the downside they'd have to do some substantial changes in layout to gain access to the hithereto unused areas; which meant Myn's old room would have to be gutted despite having been renovated only recently.  
But despite all the hurdles and discomforts they'd begun conducting the reconstruction immediately. First they'd moved the new furniture to a storage facility, the garage next to the house was far too small for it, and then they'd started to tear down the walls of Myn's childhood realm. And there the problems had started.  
The house itself wasn't particularly old, just half a century, so structural decay wasn't a problem. However, when Myn's parents had bought it some thirty years ago the basic layout of the second floor had been the same as it was now and so they had no idea what to expect behind the walls. Already with the first breach they'd seen that this project would be a lot bigger and more expensive than they'd thought. The whole story was filthy, hardly surprising after decades of disuse, but the multitude of dividing walls in various states of completion, and in some cases disrepair, easily quadrupled the amount of rubble which they'd have to clear out. Apparently the previous owner had started his own reconstruction project - to what end they couldn't say but the layout was confusing and cramped - but had stopped somewhere along the way. After a moment of consternation they'd agreed to do things right and core the attic to make room for their own ideas. And this, tearing down walls, removing rubble and filth, had been the men's daily task for the best part of two months.

The shrill whine of the saw cut off and Kolot hesitantly took his paws from his ears. "That it?"

It wasn't. The sound of a hammer hitting something, once, twice, thundered through the house and then there was an enormous crash and the clatter of brickwork on a metal surface.

Jaleela pushed the drapes aside and saw a cloud of dust rising from the garbage container her husband had placed in their garden. "They're cutting the holes for the windows," she said as if talking to herself. Since the roof formed the two longer sides of the rectangular attic there was too little space for regular windows. To let light into the planned rooms Myn and Kirney had agreed to cut out sections of the roof and insert large slabs of transparisteel into the northern side while adding an outbuilding running along the whole southern side. "That must mean they've finally cleared out the rubble."

Kolot gave a snort. "Hope they not too tightfisted to buy multi-layer transparisteel. Kolot wants able to polarize. Would hate not to have some privacy."

Jaleela blinked. "You have an issue with your privacy?"

The Ewok sighed and looked at her with an expression that suggested extreme discomfort. "Kolot lived years in cage," he finally grumbled. "Or in cell with transparisteel walls. Never had privacy. Always watched, never alone." He waved his paw at the ceiling. "With just _reflective_ transparisteel Kolot would feel watched all the time."

"Even though you wouldn't be watched?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Jaleela put down the spoon and took the pot from duramic stove top. "Have you told them?"

The Ewok suddenly looked even more uncomfortable. "No."

Myn's mother rolled her eyes. "Then how are they supposed to know? Humans aren't mind-readers, you know. Jedi excluded." She squatted down to look him in the face and punched his arm lightly. "I know you don't like thinking about your past, let alone talk about it, but unless you tell us what's bothering you we can't try to avoid it.  
"There are times when you're confusing us, my little friend. Even Kirney, and that's saying something." She gave him a smile of encouragement. "We know it's better to leave you alone when you're in a snit, but we sometimes wonder if it was brought on by something _we_ did. It's always a walk on eggshells around you since none of us is sure if we don't push one of your buttons."

The look he shot her was definitely dirty. "Kolot no got _buttons_. Kolot no round-capped trashcan."

"I don't think anyone could mistake you for an astromech," Jaleela quipped lightly and rose from her crouch. She darted a look at the chrono on the wall and felt her eyes widen. "My, look at the time. Almost noon."

"Lunchtime," the Ewok announced enthusiastically, his discomfort obviously forgotten.

"Now why did I know you'd say that?" Myn's mother raised an eyebrow. "Would you mind calling Myn and Selan while I set the table?"

Kolot nodded and left the kitchen.

Jaleela busied herself setting the table. Lunch was nothing fancy today, just a stew with some bread, so all she did was to place plates, spoons and a basket with slices of bread on the table, but she still took the time to arrange it as custom dictated. She'd just put down the table mat for the pot with the stew when her husband and son came into the kitchen.

"You sure it's watertight? The weather forecast mentioned rain showers in the evening," Myn asked his father and scratched a spot behind his ear. "Wouldn't want to risk water damage, would we?"

Selan rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Look, it's not the first temporary seal I made. This one will hold."

His son shrugged. "Remember your bedroom is underneath that spot."

The older Donos shot him a look. "Cheeky."

Jaleela stepped into their path and crossed her arms. "Where do you think you're going?"

Myn and Selan exchanged a perplexed glance. "Uh," Myn's father said before putting up a hopeful smile. "Lunch?"

Jaleela let her gaze travel from their faces to their feet and back. "Don't you think you've forgotten something?"

Again the two men exchanged a look, one of those _You-got-any-idea-what-she's-talking-about?_ looks they had perfected through long years of practice. Then both gave a minuscule shrug.

"Can't think of anything, dear," Selan said.

She shot him a reproving look. "So, it's 'dear' now, is it? Won't help either of you, though. I won't let you sit on my table in the state you're in."

Before any of them could answer the front door opened and Kirney stumbled into the house laden with three large shopping bags. She dropped them and carelessly flung her jacket across a stool. "Got it," she announced and wiped sweat from her forehead. "The ferrocrete mix should be delivered tomorrow and I even managed to talk the sales agent into adding a droid crew to unload the bags so we won't have to struggle with them ourselves."

"Hey," Myn greeted her with a warm smile and moved to give her a kiss. But when he came closer she suddenly leaned back and wrinkled her nose. He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, flyboy," Kirney said flippantly and held her nose, "you stink! Have you been wallowing in vermin excreta or something?"

Myn looked at the soiled front of his working jumpsuit and sniffed. "I don't smell anything."

Jaleela shoved her husband out of the kitchen. "Which is exactly what I've tried to tell you." She placed herself on the theshold of the kitchen door and crossed her arms. "I won't have you sit on the lunch table in the state you're in. It's shower and a change of clothes for the two of you."

Selan pulled the collar of his jumpsuit over his nose and inhaled. "I don't smell anything, either. You sure?"

"Be happy you not have Ewok nose," Kolot threw in with a look of disgust on his face as he waddled down the stairs. "Kolot would need oxygen therapy if worked up there."

"No further discussions," Jaleela ordered with a dictatorial tone. "Shower and change, both of you. And hurry or the stew will be cold."

"Me first," Selan said hastily and made a dash for the main 'fresher. He yanked the door open, moved inside and slammed it shut with the agility of a much younger man.

Kirney shook her head but smiled. "Sometimes he's such a silly billy. It's endearing, really."

"So you'd like me to be a little silly from time to time?" Myn inquired and winked roguishly.

"No, darling dear," his girlfriend drawled and elbowed him lightly. "I like you for your stoic attitude."

His retort was cut off by the chime of Kirney's comlink. She sighed and thumbed it on.

"Slane Transports. Captain Slane speaking. What can I do for you?"

Kirney turned away and lowered her head a bit as if she was strainging to hear the squawkings that came out of the tiny speaker.

"Yes, I'm on Corellia … No, that shouldn't … Yes, I know. … That's on the western side of the spaceport, isn't it? … Yes, yes I know. … Very well. I'll be there."

When she turned back around Kirney had a broad grin plastered across her face. "Sabacc," she announced and punched the air in delight.

Jaleela raised an eyebrow. "Business deal gone well?"

"Can't say, yet," the younger woman said evasively, but her grin didn't waver. "But if it's what I hope it is I might have a steady source of income for the forseeable future." She gave Myn a light slap on the arm. "I might even be able to put you to work, flyboy."

"That's good," Myn's mother said. "He's got to get used to working like common folks before he gets too comfortable as a stay-at-home."

Myn straightened and sent her a glare. "Are you saying that I'm lazy?"

"You are your father's son," she retorted with a mischievious smile. "If I didn't put him to work now and then he'd just enjoy being a pensioner by doing nothing."

Kirney shot a glance at her wrist chrono and made some mental calculations. "I hope Selan hurries. I've got to be at the Spaceport in two hours to meet the client."

"There might be problem," Kolot said and tilted his head. "Forgotten delivery for plant friends?"

Kirney looked at him dumbly. "Plant friends?"

"Ithorian seeds for Floral Society," the Ewok explained patiently. "Arranged delivery today. Forgotten this?"

Kirney paled. "_Oh Sithspit!_ I had totally forgotten about that."

Myn put a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you give me the parcel and I'll deliver it?"

She blinked, momentarily surprised by his offer. But then it was a good idea and would sort the problem for her. "Sure," she agreed and smiled in relief. "Just make sure you scrub yourself thoroughly."

He frowned in confusion. "Why that?"

"The parcel is for Rostek Horn."


	2. Chapter 2

_"Horn Estate."_

Myn scowled slightly at the clipped and excessively precise tones coming from the speaker. They reminded him of a time when he'd spoken this way himself – of a time he wanted to leave behind and never be reminded of. "Slane Transports, Sir," he said shaking off the ghosts of the past. "Delivery for Director Horn."

There was a moment of silence, presumably as the person on the other side of the com was running the name against a list of expected visitors. _"I'm opening the gate now. Follow the lane."_ The connection was severed abruptly.

He shook his head at the apparent lack of manners of the upper crust's servants. _Mustn't let my prejudices influence my behavior,_ he told himself sternly and powered up the old speeder his father had lent him. He waited for the olf-fashioned gate leaves to swing open and once the way was cleared he put his foot down on the accelerator pedal.  
Rostek Horn's retirement home was surrounded by a surprisingly spacious estate. The narrow lane leading up to the central housing complex was lined with young Corellian Stone Oaks and wound itself through a picturesque park-like landscape of artificial gardens, even though most of them still seemed to be a work in progress. Neat gravel paths wound their way through young forest plantations, followed the banks of small ponds, crossed wooden bridges spanning creeks and led up to secluded pavilions.

_This is going to be an impressive park when the hedges and trees will be all grown-up,_ he decided and cast a glance at a cluster of gardener droids which were planting colourful flowers in a number of geometrically-shaped beds.

The lane made one last turn around another of these oh-so-picturesque ponds and crossed what looked like an ancient stone bridge before opening into a small square in front of an impressive three-storied … Myn stared. 'House' didn't seem to be the apropriate term for the massive neo-classical edifice, but yet calling it a 'palace' didn't seem to be right, either. In his opinion a palace was a building of limitless arrogance, something that wanted to dominate and to make a show of its owner's economical assets. Rostek Horn's home was certainly impressive, but it radiated a humility that belied the size of the building. There was nothing flashy, nothing showy, nothing that said _'Look at me and how rich I am'_. This humility, if not in size then in details, surprised him most. The social and economical elite of his home planet was known for a lot of things, but humility was not a term he'd have used in conjunction with this particular group of people.

_The term 'oxymoron' comes to mind_, he thought wryly as he sat down the speeder and opened the door. He came to face a man with severe features and average height who scrutinized him thoroughly and with barely disguised suspicion. The black suit with a razor-sharp collar and the white gloves provided a gross contrast to the man's stony features and haircut, both of which screamed military. Myn had the impression that someone had crammed an aging warrior, a tough man used to the hardships of the battlefield, into the foreign garments of a butler. Pity welled up because he could see the other man's discomfort even though he tried hard to hide it.

"You are obviously not Captain Slane," he said and Myn immediately recognized the clipped tones.

"Certainly not," he replied evenly, although he couldn't completely suppress the touch of dry amusement that wormed its way into his voice, and moved to open the speeder's cargo compartment where he'd stored the parcel. "I'm a friend of hers. Captain Slane had to attend to an urgent business matter and asked me to deliver the goods to Director Horn."

The man just stared at him for a moment, then he gave a curt nod and swiveled around on his heel. "Follow me," he barked and marched towards the main door which was already gaping wide open.

Myn matched his pace and entered the building, curious to see how a man like Rostek Horn lived. As he crossed the threshold he heard a barely audible chime and saw the black-clad man look down at a datapad. But then the surroundings captured his attention and he nearly gaped at the sight that greeted him.  
He'd entered what he could only classify as a grandiose entrance hall. Columns of multi-coloured marble on both sides stemmed the weight of a broad balcony. Two winding stairs led up to the second of three floors, all polished marble and sparkling malachite, just like the spotlessly gleaming floor. The central element of the room, however, was laid into the floor - a large depiction of the old CorSec logo in black marble and red malachite. It was, as Myn noted with some bewilderment, one of the few decorative elements he could see. Other wealthy persons crammed all kinds of _objets d'art_ into their homes, both to demonstrate real or perceived appreciations of art and their personal wealth, but he could see nothing of that kind - no paintings, no ancient vases, no sculptures. The only decoration visible in abundance were colourful flower arrangements which gave the room an aura of cheerful vitality.

Myn wondered at the impression the entrance hall had made on him. It's architecture was clearly designed to impress, to awe visitors with its grandness. It was impressive, no doubt about it, but yet its flowery adornments permeated a lust for life, almost like a mischievious twinkle of dry amusement in someone's eyes, that didn't match the architectural surroundings. Was that the motto of the house? Was the bulky edifice a collection of oxymorons designed to bewilder visitors? And what did that say about its owner?

He shook his head. He wasn't here to solve the apparent riddle that was Rostek Horn, former Chief of CorSec.

The man led him through the entrance hall and into a corridor that led to the back of the house. As he left the semi-darkness of the corridor and stepped out into the light Myn found himself in a medium-sized winter garden full of green plants and colourful flowers. Outside, behind the transparisteel viewport, a small garden was nestled to an old-fashioned brick wall that seemed to be much older than the house itself.

"Delivery for you, Sir," the black-clad man announced with a curt bow. "Courtesy of Slane Transports."

Myn concentrated on the third person in the winter garden and consciously stifled the impulse to snap to attention. He'd never met Rostek Horn before, but of course he'd known who he was. Former Chief of CorSec, aging but still powerful gray eminence of the Corellian political leadership caste, horticultural prodigy and - apparently - a bit of an eccentric. Horn was sitting in an old-fashioned cane chair reading a holozine on horticulture. He was dressed in rough gardener's pants and a baggy dark green shirt. Dirty work gloves lay on the low table right next to a mug with steaming caf and an assortment of pastries. He looked ... _ordinary_ ... but when Horn's gaze met his own he could see the agile mind behind the grey eyes. He also noted how Horn's eyes widened in surprise for a split-second, but his self-control kicked in just as fast and he hid it behind a façade of cordiality.

"Ah," Horn said as he rose and a broad smile appeared on his face. "My Ithorian seeds and seedlings."

"Scan was clean," the butler announced and let the datapad slip into a pocket of his jacket. "No open or concealed weapons, Sir."

_So that's what that chime was about,_ Myn thought wryly. _Concealed weapons detector in the doorjamb._

Horn nodded. "Thank you, Tosruk. That'll be all for now."

Tosruk actually did snap to attention before he turned about and disappeared through the door. Myn watched him go, unknowingly sporting a look of pity. When he looked back at Rostek Horn he was surprised by the amused look in the older man's eyes.

"Charming fellow, isn't he?" Horn asked and let a lopsided grin stretch his wrinkled face. "I hope he didn't offend you."

Donos shook his head. "No, Sir. He was very … _short_ with me, but that doesn't bother me."

"Very well." He looked at the parcel Myn was holding as if sizing it up. "I'm an old man, son, and my bones are creaking worse each day. Would you mind carrying that for me to the greenhouse?"

"No problem, Sir."

Horn nodded and motioned him to follow. A section of the transparisteel forming the outer wall of the winter garden shifted aside silently and the older man moved outside into yet another garden. This one, however, didn't have much in common with the formal gardens and flower beds he'd seen on the approach to the house. There was nothing _decorative_ about it and several patches with various vegetables hinted at a more practical purpose. He didn't have much time to study this part of the estate more thoroughly, though. Horn waved his hand at a sensor pad and the door of the greenhouse swung wide open.

Myn entered and took a quick look around. As he'd expected he saw yet another mass of greenery, long lines of plant pots, a work table with console and and a collection of delicate instruments whose function he couldn't even begin to guess.

Horn gestured at the work table and closed the door behind him. "Put it down there."

Myn did as he'd been told. When he looked back at Horn, however, he felt a touch of unease creep into his senses at the scrutinizing look in the other man's eyes. "Captain Slane said you'd agreed on payment modalities beforehand," he said hoping that his unease wouldn't seep into his voice. "Is there anything else I can do for you Director Horn?"

"Indeed there is," Horn said and suddenly Donos had a premonition of impending doom. "There is really something I'd like to ask of you, Captain Donos."

Myn stiffened. "Sir?"

The older man chuckled. "Don't worry. I have this greenhouse swept for listening devices each day so your secret is safe. Your return to Corellia hasn't gone _completely_ unnoticed, Captain. You have got guts and I admire that. There are some people here who would regard your _previous affiliation_ as treason." His face was completely serious but there were undertones in his voice that suggested he found Myn's predicament somewhat amusing.

"But you aren't one of them."

One of Horn's eyebrows rose. "Why would you think so?"

Now it was Myn's turn to resort to irony. "A stalwart supporter of Palpatine's Empire wouldn't have sheltered the family of a Jedi."

Horn laughed again. "Touché, Captain." Then he sobered up and settled against a table with lines of pots. "But I am serious – I would like to ask a favor of you. And I have to apologize."

Myn just looked at him.

"I must admit an act of duplicity." He waved his hand at the parcel Myn had deposited on the work table. "These seeds and seedlings weren't as urgent as I made it out to Captain Slane. In fact … In fact I only placed the order for them, because I wanted to get a chance to talk to you."

Myn felt his eyes widen. "Me, Sir?"

"Yes." Horn sighed. "And since you have an obvious interest in keeping a low profile, and since the favor I want to ask of you is of sensitive nature, I had to find a way to do so without alerting certain people."

Donos felt the sense of doom growing to a hard knot of ice in his stomach. "What kind of favor is this?"

"It'll take a bit of explanation, so please bear with me, Captain, if I have to go far back in time." He crossed his arms and his eyes took on a far-away look. "It's been nearly thirty years since I walked into my office and was surprised by the news that Palpatine had ousted Fliry Vorru and had him shipped off to Kessel. Back then it came as a total surprise to all of us and the surprise was even greater when he made Dupas Thomree Diktat. Noone really understood why he was promoted while Vorru was flung into the galaxy's worst prison since we'd considered him to have been little more than Vorru's lackey. With hindsight, however, it becomes obvious that Thomree had supplied the Emperor with information on Vorru's activities and when Vorru had become too much of a nuisance Palpatine had struck."

"It strikes me that trying to plot against a Sith is asking for trouble," Myn remarked but despite his worries he felt his curiosity rear its head.

"At that time very few people knew of Palpatine's Force talents," Horn reminded him gently. "So the idea of scheming against the Emperor didn't have the aura of foolishness that it has today. Vorru tried it and got bitten so he served as an example for other people who might have thought they could take the Emperor's place." He shrugged. "Anyway, now Thomree was Dikat and had almost unlimited authority over the Corellian system as long as he stood loyally to Palpatine. That support, or rather the personal connection he seemed to have to the Emperor, was what kept some very influential people from moving against him. You need to understand this, Captain: Thomree had been a non-entity in the circles of power on Corellia before. He had no connections to the elite, no wealth to base his political career on and he most certainly didn't belong to the right social caste. '_What does that lowly middle-class scum do in our midst?'_ some of the upper crust said when Thomree wasn't present. But he was all too aware of the disdain the rich and powerful felt for him so he was keen to consolidate his position while setting up his own connections.  
"As the years went by Thomree's position solidified both through his surprising political acumen and the multitude of deals he made with various people. On a personal level his reign has been a terrible tragedy for many people, most of which were either Rebels or at least sympathizers, who paid the ultimate price for their beliefs and ideals. He used Corellian and Imperial resources to ruthlessly hunt down and destroy any kind of opposition within the Corellian system both to secure his own position as well as to demonstrate his loyality to the Emperor who accorded him an unprecedented amount of autonomy within the Empire in return. And this has proven to be a blessing for the system, not without a lot of dark spots, but the bottom line is the Empire didn't put its nose into Corellian affairs unless they had a fundamental interest in them. This has made all kind of arrangements possible that avoided official Imperial policies."

"Such as sheltering the family of a Jedi Master."

"Among other things." Horn pinched the ridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "A more thorough Imperial scrutiny might have uncovered the heritage of my stepson and wife. But there were more such things, which I won't talk about for various reasons, all of which would have been impossible if the Imperial presence on Corellia had been any greater than it had been already." He opened his eyes again. "But there was one opponent Thomree couldn't conquer, not with all of his ruthlessness and aggressiveness or his underhandedness, and that opponent was age. He knew the nexu were just waiting for him to make a mistake or for the right circumstances, the right moment to make their move. So he made a decision that's been a very big surprise for everyone: He announced that another nobody was to take his place as Diktat and that nobody was Daclif Gallamby."

Myn winced. "I take that move hasn't made him any more popular with the elite."

Horn snorted. "You bet. They'd begun to joust for the pole position in the race for Thomree's succession when he dropped that little thermal detonator right into their midst. But despite having been poleaxed so harshly they couldn't do anything about it since the Emperor's favor was what kept the Diktat in power. And when Thomree died, quite unexpectedly and under circumstances which are still rather mysterious, that favor also included Daclif Gallamby. His rivals couldn't do anything but choke back their fury and wait.  
"And then, suddenly, one of the pillars of the system that had worked so well crumbled. When Palpatine died at Endor the whole of the Corellian political caste was thrown for a loop. Nobody had an idea how to continue and for some weeks there was only chaos and confusion at the top. By and by, however, some people realized that they now had the chance to settle old grudges and remove that random parvenu from their midst. And," he said wryly, "take his place as Head of State, of course."

Donos crossed his arms as well and frowned. "But since Gallamby is still residing in the Governor's Palace I suppose something happened that thwarted these plans."

"Yes, Gallamby got lucky. Again. The Emperor's death had far-ranging effects across the whole galaxy but nowhere were these effects more drastic and more immediate than in his own Imperial Court. Palpatine had gathered numerous people around himself - the nobility of various Core Worlds, Admirals and Generals, political advisers, CEOs of the galaxy's largest companies and their families. And all of them had been orbiting around the single center of gravity that was the Emperor. With him gone a violent power struggle was inevitable since most of these people would have sold their siblings, parents and grandparents for more influence and power.  
"Some very influential court members realized quickly that they'd become victims of the imminent outbreak of violence and so they decided to cut their losses and rescue not just their lives but also the considerable wealth they'd managed to amass. And since Corellia was drawing assets of the Imperial Navy at that time like a glowstick attracts Fireflares they decided to settle down here for they hoped the relative autonomy of the Corellian system would insulate them from the effects of the power struggle and prove to be a base from which the reconstruction of the Empire could be promoted." Horn let out a bark of dark laughter. "Of course the latter idea was quickly smothered in the infighting between the various factions in the Imperial Navy."

"So they made a deal with Gallamby to rescue their influence and wealth," Myn muttered as his mind was starting to discern a pattern in this complex net of schemes and dependencies. "They supported him against his rivals in exchange for his loyality to the Empire as an idea and a little distance to its management at that time."

Horn nodded. "Exactly. These newcomers were an unexpected influx into the landscape of Corellia's leadership and the _considerable_ riches they brought along directly translated into political influence and therefor power. And once again the old elites were checkmated because they couldn't compete with the likes of the Yelanya Vandarvi, Rodrig Talesh or Parin Lias-Simms - not economically and not politically. But this time Gallamby used the backing he'd received to cleanse the planet of his rivals. A number of them are rotting in various prisons, some have been locked up in their own estates and have been placed under PSS guard and a few have been driven into exile. In the end Gallamby had effectively crippled any kind of opposition within the Corellian elite and had stabilized not only his rule but also the planet in a time of utter chaos. It did come at a price, though." Horn didn't bother to hide his contempt. "The Imps who came to Corellia were deeply scared of the Rebellion and wanted nothing better than to eradicate it. Lacking the ability to do so, however, they turned to the easiest and oldest solution mankind has to offer - they shut it out."

"How so?" Myn's forehead creased into a bewildered frown. "You mean they made Gallamby go even deeper into isolation than before?"

"Not quite." Horn chuckled at the look of utter incomprehension Donos sent his way. "It's much simpler but a lot more embarrassing. They simply decided to bury their heads in the sand and make all of the Corellian system do the same. They reasoned if they totally ignored the Rebellion it would ignore them, too. Out of sight, out of mind." He shrugged. "They certainly have enough money to spin themselves into a cocoon of self-deception. These people are living in a world where the Empire is still gloriously ruling the galaxy, where no discontent exists, where the Emperor's New Order has brought peace and love and harmony to the galaxy." His grey gaze drilled itself into Myn's eyes. "The price Gallamby paid was the almost total isolation of Corellia from the systems flocking to the Rebellion's and later the New Republic's banner. This doesn't mean just political issues such as diplomatic relations of any kind but more specifically economical restrictions. Trade with companies or planets within Republic space is not prohibited _per se_, but any contract between a Corellian company and a person or firm in Republic space is subject to approval of a special supervising board. And if the board members perceive a contract to provide the Republic with any kind of strategic advantage they can ban the company from signing that deal."

"And do they do it often? Refusing their authorization, I mean."

"No, not really." Horn looked contemplative for a moment, then he shook his head. "Not that I've heard of. But this reviewing nonsense is nothing but flexing of muscles and isn't the crux of the matter here. In fact companies below a certain annual revenue aren't even subject to it.  
"The crux, Captain, is that the Corellian shipyards are prohibited to sell their products within Republic space at all. This means a large number of planets and systems, some of which had been regular and loyal customers for centuries, were suddenly lost when the law was announced. At first that was the matter of considerable controversies but a few cash injections at the right places lubed the gears and with the Empire being a reliable customer worries about loss of revenue quickly vanished into thin air. Until recently, that is, and this is also the reason why I wanted to talk to you."

Myn raised an eyebrow but remained silent. He didn't see where he could fit into all of this political hullabaloo.

Horn wrung his hands as if he couldn't find the words he needed to say. "Since the death of Grand Admiral Thrawn the imperial factions have begun fighting each other for supremacy. And orders for new ships, both from the Imperial Navy as well as private companies, have dropped by a good thirty percent in just six months. To make matters worse several sectors with thousands of systems have switched sides and are now members of the New Republic. As such they're effectively lost as customers. The shipbuilding companies themselves are threatened in their existence if it gets any worse. And since these yards are by far the largest employers on Corellia, we're talking about fifteen to twenty million jobs here, we're suddenly on the verge of a considerable economical crisis. Gallamby's afraid that a massive loss of jobs could spark a rebellion."

"Money and economical interests mixing with politics. Same old combination as always," Myn muttered darkly and grimaced. "But I still don't see where I do fit into all of this."

"I'm coming to that," Horn said and put on a placatory smile. "But before I do this I must ask you treat this with utmost discretion. You may, of course, discuss it with your family, but it must absolutely not get beyond this circle of people. If it did get out the damage could be far greater than any of us could possibly imagine. It could mean a civil war."

Dread bubbled up in Myn's stomach and boiled there like the molten lava in the heart of a volcano. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but his voice still shook slightly as he said, "Understood, Sir."

"Very well then." Horn turned around and opened a drawer from which he pulled a nondescript datacard. He turned back to Myn and held it up for him to see. "Diktat Gallamby is very afraid of what a massive economical crisis could do to his rule. Not that I am a fan of him, far from it, but at the moment the alternatives to keeping him in power are far worse so I agreed to act as intermediate. As a result he's been toying with the idea of removing the trade restrictions and open up new avenues of trade with the New Republic. This, however, would not go down well with his imperial benefactors so he's kind of caught between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand he knows that he can't afford to let the shipbuilders go bancrupt as that would mean millions of unemployed and a rise of discontent but on the other hand he's afraid that the old imperial families could try to remove him if he deviated from the path they'd put him on. As a result he's trying to keep things under wraps for the time being and set up some non-official links to the New Republic in a deniable manner." He held out the datacard to Myn. "This contains a personal message to High Councilor Doman Beruss, representative of the exiled Corellians in the New Republic. It's encrypted and can only be accessed by her via iris scan and voice profile matching so don't attempt to open it or it will self-destruct. The favor I want to ask of you is to go to Coruscant and hand over this datacard personally, but without anyone noticing. If the press got wind of it Gallamby would deny any knowledge of this and denounce it as Rebel propaganda. And there would be consequences for you and your family."

Myn bristled and the dread turned into instant fury. "I didn't think you'd result to blackmailing, _Director_," he snarled. "And there I thought you'd be different perhaps. My mistake."

Horn held up both hands in a placatory gesture. "No, no. You've gotten this all wrong, Captain. Gallamby doesn't even know you and he doesn't know that I am asking you to be the messenger. And I don't think this is blackmail since you can say no to all of this. But please consider this: At the moment your return to Corellia hasn't been noticed by the wrong people and I have made sure that certain information won't be reaching them. But we don't know the future. All it takes is a case of dumb luck, a speeding ticket or maybe some bureaucratic form that lands on the wrong table, and you're suddenly getting the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of people. If you, however, do me this favor the Diktat would be indebted to _you_ and if, for whatever reasons, you ran into trouble here because of your service with the New Republic he would have a very good reason to protect you."

Myn dithered. On the one hand the security he could gain by having the Corellian Diktat indebted to him was tempting for he was all too aware how vengeful humans, especially Imperials, could be but on the other hand the job wasn't particularly safe for he had to expose himself to potential scrutiny of New Republic Intelligence. Which would be dangerous for Kirney. _Stuffed if you do, stuffed if you don't_, he thought morosely and decided to play for time. Did he really want to get involved in this ... _political mess_? "I don't have a ship," he muttered but even to him it sounded like a lame excuse. "And using a commercial flight might attract exactly that kind of scrutiny you're trying to evade."

Horn didn't even hesitate. He'd obviously thought things through in advance. "I can provide you with an inconspicious _Hermes_-class Fast Courier registered to a Corellian rental agency."

"And what do I say when asked for the reason of my visit?"

Horn smiled. "I have a number of new creations and their DNA code I need to send to Galactic Association for Horticulture on Coruscant for patenting, anyway, so I could mandate Slane Transports."

Myn's shoulders slumped. "I don't know," he muttered. "It's ... I need to ... I have to …"

Horn moved forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Captain. Go home. Talk you your family. Sleep on it," he said gently and slipped the datacard into a pocket of his pants. "If you have an answer Captain Slane shall contact me and report problems with the payment. I'll arrange a meeting then."

Myn nodded as if in trance and remained in this detached state until he parked the speeder in his father's garage. Only then the enormity of what Horn had told him hit him and he felt his hands starting to shake. He put both of them flat atop the padded cover of the speeder's dashboard and rested his forehead on them. He stayed like this for a small eternity before he dared to leave the speeder and move into his parents's house.


	3. Chapter 3

The silence in the kitchen was heavy and oppressive, interrupted only by the soft _tack-tack-tack_ of the advancing sweep hand of the mechanical chrono on the wall. Five untouched cups of cooling caf sat in front of them on the table but noone seemed to do anything but stare into the depths of the black liquid. Myn risked a quick glance at the faces of his family.

Kolot was unreadable as usual but the gentle movement of his right paw as it was tracing the edge of his cup revealed that his mind was lightyears away. Selan's face on the other hand was hard and the edge of his jaw was more pronounced than usually. His hands were clenched into fists, so hard that his knuckles had begun to turn white, and it was obvious that he was struggling to keep his anger in check.  
Myn's mother provided a stark contrast to the red-hot fury of her husband for she looked as ashen as Myn felt. Her face was almost drained of blood, she looked like a porcelain doll with alabaster skin and raven hair but the impression was ruined by the wide-eyed look of fear she was sporting.

The fifth person on the table seemed to be curiously unshaken if the look of concentration on her face was anything to go by. There was a continuous flicker in Kirney's eyes, almost as if she was processing thoughts like a droid would process data behind the stoicly calm façade of her features.

Someone inhaled and he looked at his father, expecting an outburst but the string of corellian invective, most of which belonged to the category his parents had forbidden him to use as a kid, came out of his mother's mouth.

He exchanged a startled look with his father, then focused his attention on Jaleela. "You okay, Mom?"

She looked up and he could see her hands were shaking. "No, I'm not. How can I be okay when my only child is about to be drawn into this filthy business?" she exclaimed. "Why can't they sort their issues themselves? Why do they have to bother us ordinary folks?"

"Because they're so used to others being at their beck and call that they never bother to ask themselves what consequences their actions may have." Kirney's voice was hard, almost _Imperial_, but there was a derisive lilt to her words that revealed underlying emotions such as disdain and anger. "Power is the worst drug known. It'll corrupt anyone, regardless how moral a person is. Once you've been exposed to it you're starting to change. It gives you an unconscious arrogance which you can't see unless someone else points it out to you." She exhaled slowly, a sign of her agitation, and wrapped her hands around her cup of caf.

"But why Myn?" Jaleela was close to bursting into tears so Selan reached out and gave her hand a supportive squeeze. "Why can't they use their own stooges?"

"Because, regardless how we feel about it, Myn is the most logical choice from Horn's point of view," her husband said soothingly despite the barely restrained fury still evident on his face. He let go of her hand and began to tick off points from a mental list. "Number one: He has only recently resigned his commission as a member of the New Republic Armed Forces so he's a person the New Republic will trust rather than someone working for the Corellian authorities. Number two: He was a member of Rogue Squadron which gives him avenues and contacts other people don't have. Number three: He has a natural interest in staying outside the scanning range of the more imperially-minded members of the Corellian society so he's not inclined to leak information to them. And last but not least: He's used to dealing with sensitive and top secret information and is not likely to break under the strain."

"You sound as if you understand them," Myn's mother shot back accusingly and gave her husband a look of appalled disbelief.

"It's simply cold expedience," Kirney said but at the same time she half-closed her eyes. "Although I hesitate to discard any other ulterior motives just yet. I know far too little about Rostek Horn to do so." She gave a shrug. "Or maybe it's paranoia left over from a previous existence. I don't know."

Myn sighed and rose to dump his caf into the sink. "Another reason might be that Horn seems to think I should have an interest in wishing Corellia part of the New Republic. He's obviously not aware of the fact that a little distance to Coruscant is just what I want." He returned to the table and sat down, shaking his head. "This is why I hate politics."

Jaleela looked into each of the four faces around her still sporting the expression of disbelief. "You are all awfully accepting. How can you be so calm?"

Myn held up his hand for her to see, palm down. It was shaking. "Don't think I'm not disturbed, Mom."

"Lamenting what happened pointless," Kolot spoke up, breaking his own silence. "Can't change that Myn was asked. Need to figure out what we going to do."

"_We?_" Myn raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to be rude, buddy, but this ain't about you."

The Ewok shook his head. "Myn wrong. It also about us," he continued and let out a frustrated sigh. "What happen to you influences parents. And Kirney. And if Kirney affected then Kolot affected, too. This dangerous situation. Nobody can guess outcome. But also great chance to make life more secure. Should not let ourselves forget that, should not let worries affect judgement."

They nodded at that, either unenthusiastically like Myn and his father, absent-mindedly like Kirney or reluctantly like Jaleela.

"So, Kolot thinks we have two options. First is simple – say no. But second not simple – accept. Should think this one through before making decision. Need to make plan, need to see what dangers may happen and how can avoid them. Then, and only then, Myn can make decision not based only on emotions."

Myn frowned at the Ewok. "If you ask me that's a straightforward operation. Anyone can ask for a personal audience with a High Councilor. And if I ask Wedge for his help …"

"It ain't that simple I'm afraid," Kirney interrupted and shook her head. "There's no guarantee that you'll get an audience to begin with. And even if you get one it may take weeks, if not months. And the longer this datacard is in your possession the greater the danger of something slipping out becomes."

"Not to mention," Selan added darkly, "that you'll be screened by New Republic Intelligence whose agents may or may not stumble across Kirney here. And I'm sure we're all keen to avoid _that_."

"Very much so," Myn muttered quietly.

His girlfriend gave him a pointed look. "There is one more problem you need to be aware of. Intelligence may want to recruit you as an informant, or at least someone who does the odd job for them."

Myn closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. "This is getting less and less appealing."

Selan pursed his lips as a sudden thought took root in his mind. "And if you ask me you should avoid involving General Antilles, or rather any member of Rogue Squadron, that is."

His son opened his eyes and stared at him in confusion. "Why do you think so?"

Selan stared at the table and traced patterns on its surface with a finger. "Rogue Squadron is a highly visible unit. Its members are celebrity and as such they're of interest to the holoshills. There's always the danger that you might be observed entering Rogue Squadron HQ."

Myn's face betrayed his skepticism. "Don't you think you're overstating a little bit?"

Kirney chuckled darkly. "Have you forgotten the _'Top Ten of Wes Janson's Hottest Dates'_? If I remember correctly you found that one greatly disturbing."

He winced at the memory of that particular show. He'd covered for Wes after one of these dates since the perpetual nine-year-old had failed to show up for duty the next day and Myn had sweated blood and guts, afraid that Janson had gotten himself into trouble with the civil authorities. He'd given Wes a piece of his mind when the Tanaabian had shown up again in the evening, even if the whole episode had gone by without consequences. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered and hoped he didn't blush. "I remember."

"So how will he gain access to Councilor Beruss if he has to avoid General Antilles?" Jaleela inquired curiously. "Other than joining the line of people in front of the Senate Hall, that is."

Myn exchanged a somewhat pained look with Kirney, a look which she returned. "I don't have much of a choice," he began and heaved another sigh. "I've got to ask a friend of mine who's with Intelligence right now. Maybe he can arrange for a meeting or he can get me in touch with people who can arrange it."

"Which brings us back to the problem of being scrutinized by New Republic Intelligence," Selan remarked almost casually. "Something we very much want to avoid."

Kirney nodded. "Which is why getting in touch with Face is the only viable route for us to go. We know Face. We were squadmates. We know how he thinks, what kind of person he is. That makes it easier to predict how he will react. And," she added and spread her hands, "he'll have more incentive to help Myn because he's a friend. Not to mention that he'll understand that Myn doesn't want to be bothered by Intelligence or any authorities just because he's agreed to play the messenger boy this time."

"But he's just a lowly Captain," Myn said with a frown. "I don't like the idea to ask him and have him running to Cracken. I'd like to avoid _him_ for the good General has a tendency to see people as resources only. Not to mention that he has issues with taking a no."

"So make it inofficial, just a friend visiting another friend," Selan threw in. "_Hi Face! Long time no see. How are you? You see I have this little problem and wondered if you could help me._"

His son grimaced. "Two tiny problems with that. Problem A: Face has an apartment in an NRI safehouse. Problem B: I don't have his comlink frequency."

A frown of confusion creased Kirney's forehead. "Why that? Did he change comlinks?"

Myn sighed. "No, nothing like that. When I left Coruscant I dumped my old comlink with all the saved frequencies. I thought I wouldn't need them anymore since I hadn't planned on talking to them ever again." He looked up and sought Kirney's gaze. "I wanted to protect you. I thought if I vanished without keeping in touch, and without a way for them to find me, they'd have no chance to accidently find you."

"Oh Myn," she whispereded, touched by his protectiveness, and reached out to stroke his cheek.

Giving her a shaky smile he continued, "And yes I know they could find me if they put their minds to it. But in a galaxy with hundreds of quintillions, septillions or _whatever_illions of inhabitants that's going to take a while. Not to mention that the New Republic doesn't have access to the population databases of a large number of planets."

Kirney withdrew her hand and concentrated on the issue at hand again. "So you get in touch with Face and hope he can arrange an unsupervised and unrecorded meeting with Councilor Beruss. And then? I mean what happens afterwards? Face may not be happy with you vanishing into thin air again. And this time he'll know you're on Corellia so he'll have a place to start looking if he wants to get in touch with you."

"I know." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "But he's the only one I can ask. I don't trust anyone else apart from the Rogues and Wraiths, but in reality only Face and Wedge would be able to help me."

"Isn't grandson of Horn in Rogue Squadron?" Kolot asked quietly.

Myn looked at him curiously and nodded. "Yes, he is."

"So couldn't you …?"

"No," Myn interrupted hastily. "Not him."

His father arched an eyebrow. "You've got issues with Horn's grandson?"

"Well ..." Donos fidgeted. "More like he has issues with me. The first thing he said to me when I came to Rogue Squadron was that I didn't belong there and shouldn't be in a snubfighter cockpit at all. I always had the impression that he was observing me, waiting for me to crack up again so he could pounce on me and have me shipped off to some mental asylumn."

Now both of his father's eyebrows rose towards the hairline. "That's all?"

"No." He shook his head again. "The man's a former CorSec investigator. He has that sixth sense and he'd know I didn't level with him. He'd start digging until he had his answers. In a way that would be worse than being screened by Intelligence."

_Not to mention that he's the grandson of a Jedi Master_, he added quietly. _He'd know I was hiding something._

"Okay." Selan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "So the only viable avenue is this Face person. Right?"

"Yes."

"So let's talk about contingency plans. _What happens when … ?_" He cleared his throat. "For example if your friend happens to be unavailable."

"I …" Myn swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't know. I don't know anyone else in Intelligence. The other Wraiths aren't commanding officers and don't have the freedom to act as Face does."

Kirney exhaled in vexation. "In this case I don't see an alternative to involving General Antilles. He's got the rank and the connections, he's not that big a friend of Intelligence, he hates political wrangling as much as we do and he's helped Myn so he isn't a stickler for protocol. On the other hand, however, he's pretty public a person." She gave an exclamation of disgust and threw up her hands. "I feel like going in circles."

"Which means I don't have much of a choice." Myn's voice was resigned. "It's either Face or Wedge. There are no other options."

"Of course there are," his mother snorted un-ladylike. "You can tell Horn where to shove this datacard and have him look for someone else to play the messenger."

A strained smile appeared on her son's face and he shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not an option anymore, Mom. It's not that I want to do this, it's more that I can't really say no." He held up a hand when Jaleela opened her mouth to object. "I'm sorry, Mom, but I mean it. I didn't give it much thought when I resigned my commission since I thought I wouldn't be bothered if I kept a low profile. That doesn't work anymore. I don't want to live my life expecting to be arrested any time I venture out of the door. I don't want to worry that you could be held accountable for my service with the New Republic Armed Forces. I don't want to watch my back all the time, I don't want to consider any living being a potential danger. If I wanted that I could have accepted the transfer to Intelligence, but I declined precisely because I didn't want such a life."

"You're sure about this," Jaleela said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I am." Myn exhaled slowly. "I don't like it, I don't feel comfortable about it, but I don't see a way out of this, either. I just want to get over with this."

Kirney's gaze was resigned. "So it's agreed?" she asked. "Shall I contact Horn about the _payment issues_?"

Myn nodded, a far-away look in his eyes, and said, "Do it." Yes, he was going to do this. And then the galaxy could go hang itself for all that he cared.


	4. Chapter 4

A week later Donos found himself on Coruscant contemplating murder, and he was at the point where he didn't particularly care who'd be introduced to the business end of his blaster.

_What a Krayt and Bantha show_, he thought gloomily as he stood on the automated slideway that would bring him to the Headquarters of the New Republic Intelligence Service. _Horn, you better be right about this or I'll show you just how good a sniper I am._

The very things that were annoying him so much had started innocently enough. Kirney had ordered a custom-made jumpsuit for him just like the one she was wearing herself. "If you're going to play the role of an employee of Slane Transports then you've got to look the part," she'd said. He hadn't minded since it had made sense.  
When he'd gone back to Horn to pick up the datacard and the package with the plants and DNA codes Horn wanted to register with the Galactic Association for Horticulture Kirney had lent him her speeder and had even slapped some hastily made company logos on the doors. It had made sense so he had't minded.  
Then she'd sliced some quick counterfeit documentation saying he was an employee of Slane Transports. "In case some overzealous clerk at the Spaceport decides to have some fun at your expense," she'd explained. It had made sense so he hadn't objected.  
The last suggestion, however, had been the notorious last straw that broke the Bantha's back. His mother had suggested to pack a parcel full of Corellian delicacies, all of which were difficult to obtain outside Corellia, and address it to Garik Loran for delivery to add to the cover story.

He scowled at the parcel as he clutched it in his hands as if it was to blame for his problems. He'd never enjoyed the Cloak-and-Blade nonsense Intelligence was so fond of, in fact the little sojourn to Storinal as part of Wraith Squadron had put him off that profession for life, and he felt he was rapidly approaching his saturation point for this kind of Hutt droppings.

As he was transported past a towering wall of transparisteel he took a look at his own reflection and consciously suppressed a sigh. He looked very much like one of the millions of courier pilots who came to the city planet each day - washed-out bantha leather jacket over a black jumpsuit with yellow trim and red seams, stylish sun visor to protect his eyes and a parcel under the arm.

_Get used to it_, he told himself sternly. _That's you for the rest of your life._

He hadn't talked to anyone about his plans for the future, yet, since he hadn't been sure what he wanted himself. But the idea of joining Kirney's shuttle business was enticing, not as employee but as her partner for he wanted to maintain the kind of independence only freelancers or enterprisers knew. He couldn't see himself as a regular employee or nine-to-five clerk sitting at a shabby desk. That wasn't him and he knew he wouldn't be happy in such an occupation. Force, he hoped Kirney would agree with his plans. He wouldn't know what to do with himself otherwise.

He forced himself from his musings as the towering edifice of the NRI headquarters came into view. He left the slideway and stumbled for a second when his equilibrium organ attempted to compensate the sudden lack of forward movement. He cast one last glance at the office tower stretching upwards until disappearing in a cloudlayer half a klick above, took off his visor and entered the building. As he approached the reception desk manned by a human female and a Quarren he remembered Kirney's last instructions for this situation.

_You're a courier pilot, remember_, her voice instructed gently. _Think 'bored civilian'._

"Delivery for Captain Garik Loran," he said and placed the parcel on the counter.

The Quarren hit a few keys on a console and stared at the monitor. "Captain Loran ... Captain Loran ..." Two of the alien's face tentacles curled up and straightened again. "I'm sorry, Sir, but Captain Loran is not on planet at the moment."

"Blast it." Why wouldn't things go smoothly and as planned? Just once? Was that really too much to ask for? "Any idea when he's going to be back?"

The Quarren shook his, or her, head. "I don't know, Sir. I'm sorry. You could leave the parcel here and we'd ..."

"No, sorry," Myn interrupted. "It's marked private so I have to hand it over personally."

"I'm afraid Captain Loran will be unavailable for several weeks," a new voice said from behind.

Myn turned around and felt his guts compress into a ball of ice. The voice belonged to a person he knew, and who knew him, and he hoped she wasn't going to blow his makeshift cover. He gave her a pleading look and a minuscule shake of the head and hoped she understood what he was trying to tell her.

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, but apparently she'd caught his subtle gesture and decided to play along. "I'm Commander Wessiri. Captain Loran is my subordinate. Couldn't you leave the parcel with me?"

Myn struggled to keep the relief from showing on his face and put up a frown. He dug out a datapad and began tapping on it as if reading a document. "I'm not sure. There's nothing in my instructions concerning such a situation. What did you say about Captain Loran being available again?"

Iella arched an eyebrow. "I'm afraid this is confidential. Would contacting your employer help?"

Myn shrugged. "I don't know. I'd have to ask her."

"Then we'll contact her from my office," Iella said and gave the two people behind the counter a nod. "Give him a visitor's pass. I'm taking responsibility for it."

"Yes, Ma'am." The human female handed him a card which he clipped to the front of his jacket. "You need to deposit your ID card, Sir. When you return the visitor's pass you'll receive it back."

Myn gave a sigh of mock exasperation and handed over the document. "Anything else?"

Iella pointed at the weapons detector and a small conveyor. "Put the parcel on the conveyor and step through the weapons detector. Security measures, I'm afraid. Are you armed?"

"No," he returned lightly and moved to comply with her order. "My employer's got a no weapons policy for the delivery itself. I left my blaster on the ship."

The conveyor took the parcel into a closed box, a scanning device for weapons or explosives, and stepped through the oversized frame that was the weapons detector. No chime came to report a finding so he picked up the parcel as it came out of the box and followed Iella who'd begun to move towards a cluster of turbolifts.

The ride upwards was silent as they weren't alone in the cabin. They left at level eighty and Iella led him down a long corridor. She opened a door and ushered him inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

Myn turned to look at her and saw her open her mouth to speak. He lifted a finger to his lips, waved a circular pattern to enclose the room and tapped his ear. _You sure nobody's listening?_

She frowned and moved over to a massive desk in front of a large transparisteel window. She hit a switch and a mild buzz filled the room. "I've activated a microphone scrambler so noone's listening. What the kark is this about Myn? I know you're not a fan of this Cloak-and-Blade nonsense."

"I'm sorry, Commander Wessiri," Myn began but he was interrupted when she lifted a hand.

"It's Iella. We went over this months ago, okay?"

"Sorry," he muttered contritely and sat down in a chair in front of her desk. "You're right. I don't like this playacting, but I had no choice."

She frowned. "You're not making sense. What is this about? And why are you pretending to be a courier? You could have walked in and gotten an appointment."

He pushed a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. "I'm afraid it ain't that easy."

The look she shot him was utterly uncomprehending. "You're not making sense, Myn. Why don't you start at the beginning?"

He took a deep breath and calmed his fluttering nerves. "Okay. You know I've resigned my commission a few months back."

She gave him a slow nod. "Yes."

"I've gone back home, to Corellia," he went on and watched her eyes widen.

"That's a gutsy move, Myn. There are some people who'd love to get their hands on a former _rebel_."

"I was aware of that," he retorted. "I thought if I kept a low profile nobody would bother me."

"I take that didn't work as planned."

"Not really. But not in the way you think." He took a deep breath. "A week ago I was contacted by Rostek Horn. He asked me to do him a favor and that is the reason why I am here."

Iella stared at him in confusion. "I can't follow you."

"You know how the political situation on Corellia is. Gallamby has isolated the planet from the New Republic and some very influential Imp supporters are backing him." He snarled in disgust. "But now, after Thrawn's death, the infighting among the imperial factions is threatening the Corellian economy and the Diktat's afraid a crunch would provoke a revolution. So he's looking for ways to open trade routes to the New Republic, but he's also afraid that his Imperial friends would dispose of him if they caught wind of his plans." He patted a pocket of his jacket and continued, "I've got a datacard which contains a personal message from Daclif Gallamby to Doman Beruss. Since the content of the message, and the mere fact that such a message exists, is highly confidential Director Horn was most insistent that nobody was to notice my being here."

Iella was sporting a wide-eyed expression of surprise now. "And why are you telling me all of this? I thought it was confidential."

"It is." Myn flashed her a world-weary smile. "I know I can trust you not to pass on what I just told you and I need help to get an audience with Doman Beruss which doesn't involve a full background scan by Intelligence or a waiting period of several weeks."

Iella was massaging her temples as she was beginning to feel a headache forming. "I think I'm beginning to understand," she muttered. "But I'm still not sure all this playacting isn't over the top. Why the pretense of being a courier? Why didn't you ask for an appointment with General Cracken?"

Myn's eyes hardened to durasteel. "Because I don't trust Intelligence, or rather the General himself, not to think of me as someone who could be exploited as informant or asked to do the odd job for NRI, Iella." He let his anger surface. "I went back home because I wanted to live my life as I saw fit. I don't want to be bothered by governments, Intelligence agents or anyone else who thinks I have skills I should put at their disposal just because I've once flown snubfighters for the Republic."

Iella was taken aback by the heat in his words. "Aren't you a bit unfair?"

Myn stretched out his arm and pointed westwards, towards Rogue Squadron HQ. "Go ask Wedge what he thinks about Cracken. I'm guaranteeing he'll tell you the same. The General doesn't see people as living beings - he sees them as resources to be exploited. I don't want this and I most certainly don't want my parents drawn into any of this, either. I've done my duty for the Republic, Iella. I don't owe it anything else."

"Then why are you doing it for the Diktat?" The question was blunt but delivered without any accusatory undertones.

He snorted. "I'm not doing it for the Diktat. I'm not doing it for Horn, either. I'm doing this to be able to wake up in the morning not wondering if today was the day I'd be arrested. I'm doing this to get a modicum of immunity from the Imp parts of our home's society." He took a deep breath and choked down the rising tide of his fury. "I'm sorry, Iella," he muttered quietly. "I shouldn't be taking this out on you. It's just … " He trailed off and pushed a hand through his hair.

"It's just what?" Iella asked patiently.

"I'm just _so_ angry," he sighed. "I'm angry at Horn for asking me in the first place, angry at Gallamby for not solving his own issues and angry at NRI for making me go through this Cloak-and-Blade eopieplay 'cause I can't trust it to leave me alone when this is over and done with."

"So what exactly do you want from me?"

He sought her gaze and held it. "I'd like you to arrange a private audience with Doman Beruss for me and then remove all electronic traces of my being here at all. I know you can do that."

Her eyebrows rose towards the hairline. "That's a tall order and you know it."

Myn sagged in his chair and muttered, "I know. I'm sorry, Iella, but at the moment you're the only person I can ask."

"What about Wedge?"

He gave her a weary smile and shook his head. "He'd help me in a heartbeat, but he's got enough to deal with at the moment. Being a General and all that. Not to mention that Rogue Squadron is of interest to the celebrity holoshills and I couldn't risk being observed entering Sivantlie Base for that reason."

"Ah." She tilted her head and gave him an odd look. "What has the Republic done to you, Myn, for you to become so angry at us?"

He deflated yet again. "Politics."

One of her eyebrows rose. "Could you be more specific?"

He gave another sigh, one of vexation. "I think that I'd finally woken up and saw the New Republic for what it is and not what I hoped it would be.  
"I left the Corellian Forces because I couldn't square what I had been ordered to do with my conscience. Intellectually I knew that all the people I had been ordered to kill were about to maim or kill innocent people, but on the emotional plane I considered my task to be little more than legalized murder. It wasn't fair for these people never got a chance to stand trial for their crimes, they never got a chance to redeem themselves. When I moved away and joined the New Republic Starfighter Corps all these worries about honor and fairness went away for every pilot I shot down had the chance to do the same to me. I didn't have issues with my orders anymore since I knew I was fighting the Empire." He hesitated, wondering how he should express his misgivings about the campaign against the Ciutrian Hegemony.

"So what changed?"

"Ciutric." He shook his head. "As long as we were fighting the Empire we had a clear military mandate. Thrawn attacked the New Republic and we defended it. But when the Inner Council drafted up plans to assault and conquer the Ciutrian Hegemony I was … _irked_ for want of a better term. It was a political campaign directed at the more powerful warlords which targeted worlds which were neither involved in the struggle nor wanted anything to do with the New Republic. It wasn't about freeing planets suffering from Imperial yoke, Iella. It was a pointless demonstration of military strength in order to enter negotiations with other warlords from a position of strength. And the foundation for all of that, the _excuse_ the Inner Council used to justify the use of military force, was murder and usurpation of control over the Ciutrian Hegemony." He shrugged, a gesture conveying unease and helplessness at the same time. "It just didn't have the same moral authority as self-defense or liberation of truly suppressed people had. It irked me since my own homeworld could become target for a similar campaign under a similarly weak smokescreen. And once the seeds of doubt had been sown I just couldn't justify my own service with Rogue Squadron anymore. How could I risk my life for something that I was beginning to doubt on such a fundamental level? And the more I pondered these questions the more I felt as if the Republic had betrayed me."

Iella remained silent but he could see she was disturbed by what he'd told her. The slight frown and the puzzled look in her eyes were telling enough. Had he sown doubts in her mind as well? Would she be forced to make a similar decision? But then her face slackened into an expression of weariness and she rubbed her eyes.

"I need a little time to set up things," she told him. "Don't know how long that will take. Where do you stay?"

Myn took a sheet of flimsi and a stylus from her desk and scribbled an address onto it. "I'm staying in a cheap hotel near Westport. This is the address and contact frequency."

She looked at the flimsi and another frown crept on her face. "That isn't a personal comlink frequency." She looked up and shot him a wounded stare. "Don't you trust me?"

"I'm sorry, Iella," he said apologetically. "But do you know exactly who might be looking over the data you collect and process?"

She opened her mouth ... and hesitated. The frown deepened. "No, I don't," she finally admitted. She heaved a sigh and muttered, "Damn, Myn, you've got a serious case of paranoia."

He gave a not so delicate snort. "Like you don't? Who's working in the _Trust-nobody-but-yourself_ business?"

Iella sent him a glare and pointed at the door. "Out with you or I'll forget I promised to help you."

Myn stood hastily and placed the parcel on her desk. "Thank you. I owe you one."

"Damn right, you do," she ground out but it lacked bite. "And take your parcel with you."

"Keep it," he said lightly and winked. "It's just my personal smokescreen and although it was for Face I think you'll be able to appreciate it better. Or maybe," he said and let a touch of slyness creep into his voice, "you can share it with Wedge."

"Huh?"

"My mother sends her compliments," he added. "The ryshcate is fresh, made only the day before yesterday, but I suggest you put it in the conservator before it becomes dry. As for the rest of the parcel ... You're free to decide what you'll do with it although I suggest to keep Wes away from the Whyren's Reserve." He gave her one last glance before he turned around and left the office.

Iella remained in her seat and stared dumbly at the parcel on her desk. Then she buried her face in her hands and groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next two days Myn holed up in the tiny hotel room he'd rented but that wasn't because he liked the room so much. It was little more than a windowless box of four by three meters with a bed, a locker, a fresher, a wall-mounted entertainment center and all the overbearing luxury of a CSF holding cell. Food was provided by a vending machine of the galaxy's largest fast food chain installed near the emergency exit, which meant it was utterly tasteless but filled a hole.  
He hadn't wanted to leave the hotel for two reasons. First and foremost he didn't want to miss Iella's call but secondly he was also wary of running into people he knew. It was bad enough, he reasoned, that Iella knew about his presence but running into his former squadmates would be worse for they would ask all kinds of awkward questions, most of which he didn't want to answer. He felt guilty for not being able to be honest to his friends, for treating them as if they were a danger, but he wouldn't risk Kirney's safety for anyone or anything.

In the evening of the second day he'd received an unsigned text message listing a set of coordinates, which turned out to be a plaza nearby, and a timestamp set to early forenoon of the next day. He checked out at the counter next morning and strolled towards the coordinates Iella had given him. She picked him up soon afterwards with an airtaxi and once again he couldn't completely suppress the chagrin he felt at being forced to resort to this kind of deception.

After a flight of fifteen minutes Iella guided the speeder out of an automated traffic corridor and suddenly Myn saw the tall spires of the Imperial Palace loom in the distance. As their taxi got closer a computerized voice requested their clearance which Iella transmitted quickly for the Palace was a no-fly zone and unauthorized traffic risked being shot down by hidden anti-air turrets. Five minutes later she put the airspeeder down in a landing bay in one of the Palace's smaller towers and opened her door.

"Follow me," she ordered curtly and Myn hurried out of the vehicle.

As she led him through a maze of darkened corridors he noted how tired and haggard she looked. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You look tired. I'm sorry if I …"

"It's okay," she interrupted and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. "I … I've been thinking about what you told me, these doubts I mean. Sithspit, Myn, I don't want them," she ground out from between clenched teeth. "But they kept coming back no matter what I tried. I haven't slept for two days."

"Sorry," he muttered contritely. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

She waved his concerns away. "It's my fault. I asked."

He didn't answer and for the next minutes they moved through the seemingly endless corridors of the Palace in stoic silence. For a while Myn tried to memorize the twists and turns they made but after only a few minutes his sense of direction had been so thoroughly derailed that he didn't have the slightest idea in which part of the sprawling edifice they were and if he was moving north, east, south or west. After a seemingly endless trek Iella stopped in front of a nondescript door and put her hand on the sensor pad of the bio lock. The door slid aside and Iella ushered him in.

He found himself in a drab conference room whose sole occupant rose when they entered. For a second Myn studied the woman on the other side of the table for he had never met her in person before. Her light brown hair fell down to her shoulders without being confined by one of the myriads of elaborate hairstyles which most of the human females in the Senate seemed to favor. Her face was open, radiated idle curiosity and her blue eyes studied him as intently as he did study her. She was at least fifteen years older than him but like his mother she had preserved a modicum of youthful spirit that made her look younger. It was, he thought with guarded amusement, her white senatorial gown that did its best to turn her into a matron.

"Captain Myn Donos, formerly of Rogue Squadron," she said with a slight dip of her head. "I must admit I am intrigued by what Commander Wessiri told me."

"Councilor," he said and gave a light bow. "I must apologize for the circumstances of this meeting but I felt the secrecy was necessary."

Beruss chuckled lightly and gestured at him to sit down. "It's no big deal, Captain. I'm used to the paranoia of my Senate colleagues so this is actually a refreshing change of pace." She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. "Although I must admit I'm curious why you've chosen to return to Corellia of all planets."

Myn shrugged lightly as he sank into a chair. "It's home. Any other place pales in comparison."

"Yes," the Councilor said with a far-away gleam in her eyes. "That I agree with." She shook her head to banish the memories and returned her focus to him. "Commander Wessiri has told me some basic facts about the reason for your visit, but I'd like to hear it from you again." She darted a quick glance at Iella. "No offence, Commander."

Iella smiled tightly. "None taken."

"You know the basics." Myn stifled the urge to wring his hands. "About a week ago I delivered a shipment of horticultural products to Rostek Horn, an order which turned out to have been a pretense to covertly get in touch with me. He asked me to deliver a datacard to you which, according to Horn, contains a personal message of Daclif Gallamby to you, Ma'am." He reached into the breast pocket of his jumpsuit and produced the tiny data wafer. He held it up for her to see and slid it over the table. "I was told it's heavily encrypted and can only be accessed by you via iris scan and voiceprint matching, so I can't say what it really contains."

Beruss froze, her hand hovering in mid-air. "What it _really_ contains? You think it's a trap?"

"No," he said hastily and hoped he didn't blush. "No, I don't think it's a trap. Horn didn't give me any reason to think so." _But then reading other people has never been a strength of mine_, he added quietly in his mind.

The Councilor narrowed her eyes and pocketed the datacard. "So what exactly did Horn say?"

"He did give me a run-down of some behind the scenes developments of Corellian politics," he answered dryly. "How Vorru was removed from power and shipped to Kessel, how Thomree became Diktat and managed to keep that position, why Gallamby was installed as his successor and so on. To make a long story short he tried to explain Gallamby's situation at the moment and why he is where he is." He shrugged. "It's the same old combination as always – politics clashing with economical interests. I'm sure that datacard will contain a much better and more detailed explanation."

Beruss put her hands together, fingertips against fingertips, and nodded to herself. When she focused her attention on Myn again her eyes held a calculating gleam. "So what is your take on it, Captain?"

"My take?" Myn pursed his lips mock thoughtfully. "Gallamby had to ally himself with some pretty fundamentalist Imp supporters to retain his position as Diktat after Palpatine's death. In return he kept Corellia out of galactic politics, especially where the New Republic is concerned, which allowed these Imps to live their lifes as if the Rebellion had never happened. But now that the Empire is busy destroying itself the jobs of millions of workers are in peril and Gallamby is afraid that the unhappy masses might start a rebellion of their own. So he's looking for new markets, markets which have been closed to Corellian companies up to now because of the ideological concessions to his Imperial benefactors, but he's trying to do in a deniable way since he's also afraid of being ousted by his benefactors if he deviates from the path they've put him on." He arched an eyebrow. "So condensed to a single sentence I think Gallamby has maneuvered himself into a spot between a rock and a hard place and is now grasping at straws trying to get himself out of there."

Beruss' face showed mild surprise. "I didn't think you'd be a cynic, Captain."

Myn met her stare head-on. "When it comes to politics the only thing I can muster is cynism, Councilor. No offense intended."

"None taken, Captain," she returned gracefully and darted another glance at Iella who was still standing guard near the door. "Commander, you're the one most familiar with Director Horn, aren't you?"

"Yes," Iella returned but protracted the word hesitantly. "But it's been a few years since I've seen him and even then we rarely met due to the great difference in rank."

Beruss leaned back in her chair and shot her a look of surprise. "But his grandson was your partner, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Councilor," Iella agreed, "but the job as Chief of CorSec didn't allow Director Horn to mingle with us ordinary officers. I had much closer ties to Director Horn's son Valin as he was my immediate superior."

"Be that as it may," the Councilor answered with a lazy wave of her hand, "I'd like to hear your assessment of Rostek Horn as a person."

"He's a conundrum," the younger woman began but the puzzled expression on her face revealed that she had no idea where this was going. "He can be just as jovial and warm-hearted as he can be invidious and ice-cold. He's a brilliant administrator and used to be CorSec's best investigator for many years before he was promoted to Director. As such he's proven to be politically shrewd and has kept CorSec out of the various controversies which have unsettled the public over the years." She took a breath and her eyes took on a far-away look as her mind's eye went back in time. "He seemed to be always in on everything that went on inside CorSec, regardless whether it was a professional rivalry between friends due for a promotion or the lover's grief of a first-year freshman. He never forgot a single lifeday in all the years I worked for CorSec, not even those of officers only temporarily attached to our unit. To us ordinary officers it seemed as if he knew everything and was getting information via channels we didn't even suspect to exist and his knowledge of our cases was both famous and feared. He could pester you with questions about your current case until you were ripe for a mental asylumn but he only used it to make you 'think outside the box' as he called it."

"Hmmm." Beruss half-closed her eyes for a moment, apparently evaluating what Iella had just said. "And politically?"

Iella moved forward and sat down in a chair next to Myn while she looked oddly at the Councilor. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what's his stance on galactic politics? I take he's not a loyalist, is he?"

Iella gave a bark of mirthless laughter before she caught herself. "Most certainly not. He does have connections to the regime but as Chief of CorSec he had to have those."

Beruss tilted her head. "So he's a friend of the New Republic?"

Iella winced. "I'd not go that far."

"Explain."

"He's a Corellian first and foremost. Which means for him matters at home take priority and he values a little distance to the centers of power in this galaxy." Iella smiled wryly. "You know very well how recalcitrant and stubborn us Corellians are when it comes to our independence."

Nodding in agreement Beruss cast a somewhat amused glance at Myn. "Do you agree with this assessment?"

He shrugged. "I don't know Rostek Horn well enough, Ma'am. I only met him twice."

"Well," the Councilor began and heaved a sigh, "then tell me your opinion on this: Why do you think Rostek Horn has agreed to act as intermediate?"

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "I'd have to resort to speculation, and ..."

"Then I'll take speculation," Beruss interrupted him.

Myn didn't hesitate anymore. "I think he's trying to preserve the peace on Corellia by exerting influence on people and decisions. I suspect he sees himself as some kind of ... pardon the expression, Ma'am ... _supervisor for a bunch of hyperactive adolescents_." He winced. "My father's words, not mine."

The Councilor raised an eyebrow. "So he's trying to preserve the _status quo ante_?"

"This time? Yes, defintely. He said the alternatives to Gallamby remaining in power are a lot worse, but I don't know what these alternatives are and why they'd be worse. Horn didn't specify."

"Very well." Beruss blew out another sigh and rubbed her forehead which creased into a frown. She remained silent for a few moments, then she suddely straightened and cast a glance at her wrist chrono. Rising she held out her hand to Myn and said, "I have to cut this meeting short since I've got an appointment with a Senate commission. Thank you for delivering the datacard and being honest to me."

Myn rose as well and grasped the outstretched hand to shake it. "I had little choice in that matter."

"Oh?" Surprise flickered across Beruss' face. "How so?"

"My service with the New Republic wouldn't sit well with some of the more Imperially-minded members of the Corellian leadership. And as Director Horn pointed out to me just because my return had gone unnoticed so far that doesn't mean it's going to remain that way. By doing him this favor the Diktat is indebted to me so I'm kinda safe from any repercussions. Doing this buys a modicum of safety for myself and my family."

"Ah." She gave him a searching glance and asked, "Would you be available for ..."

"No, I'm not available for any further jobs on behalf of the New Republic," Myn interrupted, for once managing to suppress his anger. "I've left Starfighter Command to live my life as I see fit and as I already told Commander Wessiri I have not the slightest inclination to endanger my family. I plan to stay out of politics, keep a low profile and live an ordinary life. Please respect that."

Beruss nodded. "I apologize, Captain. And I promise to respect your request. Once you've cleared atmosphere Commander Wessiri will erase any records of your presence on Coruscant just as you've requested. The New Republic owes you that much."

"Thank you, Councilor." Myn dipped his head and turned to leave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** This is the final part of this story, but there will be others. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. :-)

* * *

Two days later Myn was sprawled on the couch in his parents' living room. It was very late, or more accurately very early since dawn was closer than midnight. He wasn't tired, however. It was a strange thing that his biorhythm had latched itself onto Standard Galactic Time with amazing ease and speed, if not a little annoying, and he wondered how long it would take to synchronize his inner chrono to Corellian Standard Time again. He shifted a bit to take the pressure off his hip and continued to stare into the swirling flames in the fireplace. He knew he ought to try and sleep, to start reharmonizing himself to day and night on his native planet, but his mind was too restless to do that.

The sound of soft footfalls on the carpet alerted him to Kirney's return. After he'd left for Coruscant she'd taken on a flight job herself, a quick dash to Commenor to drop off a few miners who'd missed their booked flight. Myn cast a glance at her over his shoulder and saw her balancing a tray with a glass of juice, a plate with the remnants of dinner and a tumbler containing an amber liquid. Rounding the couch she put the tray on the table and held out the tumbler to him.

"Here," she said. "You look like you could use one."

"Thanks." He took a sip and enjoyed the burning sensation in his throat.

Kirney picked up knife and fork and eyed the casserole Myn's mother had made for dinner like a hungry Nexu would a nerf. "Damn, that looks good."

"Where's Kolot?"

The fork stopped half-way to her mouth. "He wanted to find something to eat and then go home. So I gave him fifty credits and jumped into the speeder."

Myn gave a sigh of mock sadness. "Bye-bye fifty credits."

Munching her late dinner Kirney grinned. "'o I 'ook 'ike I 'are? Hmmm, dats 'ood! 'ish I 'ould 'ook 'ike dat."

Myn chuckled at her enthusiasm. "My, someone's hungry."

She swallowed and then waved her fork at him. "Been living on ration bars for the last two days. And Commenor must be in deep kriff because their ration bars are even worse than the usual ones."

"_Ouch!_" He winced in sympathy. "Hard to imagine that this stuff can be even worse."

"Well, they somehow managed to make them worse," she returned matter-of-factly. "But I'm more curious to hear how things went on Coruscant."

He took another sip, then he put the tumbler down on the low table. "Not as planned but a lot better than I feared."

Kirney let out a not-so-delicate snort. "I figured things must have gone somewhat smoothly when there were no NRI-hired thugs waiting for me at the spaceport." Her sarcastic smirk was wiped from her face by the mingled seriousness and sadness in Myn's return stare. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Hey, I was joking," she said and punched his arm lightly.

"I do not find that thought funny at all," he informed her. "Not one bit."

"Sorry," she muttered contritely, even though her conscience was reminding her that _she_ was the one who'd end up in the dock for treason if NRI ever caught her. If she was lucky and NRI didn't resort to instant justice, that is.

"Anyway," Myn went on as he tried to steer the conversation back to safer territory, "as it happened Face wasn't there. From what I was told I suspect he's doing spook stuff. Undercover op, toppling an evil ruler or something like that."

One of Kirney's eyebrows rose at his sarcasm. "So you went to Wedge?"

"Not quite." He gave a little headshake, a corner of his mouth turned upwards in a tiny smirk. "I was gratiously spared that fate. I was lucky to meet Iella and that was the best coincidence that could have happened to me."

"Iella?" she asked with a pointed look.

Myn stared at her in confusion. "That's ... Oh, right. You couldn't have met her." He smiled apologetically. "Iella Wessiri. She's with NRI and supervising the Wraiths. Corellian and former CorSec investigator, Corran Horn's partner in fact. Very competent, very intelligent, highly moral and unshakingly loyal to those whom she deems worthy of her loyality. She's very much like Wedge so it's not a surprise that these two are _very_ good friends."

"Oh."

"Yes." He grinned slyly, an expression he rarely sported. "It's painfully obvious to everyone that they like each other more than friends usually do. Although I'm not sure they realize how obvious it is."

A small satisfied smirk appeared on Kirney's face. "So ... they're an _item_?"

Myn sighed and shook his head somewhat mournfully. "Not quite. Remember how I said that Iella is very much like Wedge? It's that morality of theirs that gets in their way."

"Huh? I can't follow you here."

"Iella lost her husband a while back," Myn explained, his face once again utterly serious. "In fact she had been forced to kill him herself as he'd been brainwashed by Iceheart and turned into a spy."

Kirney winced in sympathy. "That's sad."

"Yes, well. And with Wedge being such a well-behaved gentleman he's waiting for her to give him a sign ... while she's waiting for him to make a move."

"Oh my." She shook her head and smiled indulgently. "But as interesting the entanglements of General Antilles' love life are, they're not exactly related to the question I asked you, are they?"

"You're no fun," he declared and stuck out his tongue. "Anyway, I was doing the _bored delivery pilot_ routine and Iella was playing along until we came to her office. She asked what the kark was going on and why I was playacting as if I were on an undercover operation. So I told her the basics, asked her to arrange for a meeting with Councilor Beruss and waited for two days for the meeting to happen. Then I handed over the datachip, told Beruss what she needed to know, asked them to keep my presence a secret and erase all traces of my visit from the computer systems and left Coruscant."

"Sounds like it went smoothly," Kirney remarked but narrowed her eyes at him. Her senses told her that there was a _but_ coming her way. A capital _But_.

"But I don't feel like that," Myn said sullenly. He shook his head and grabbed the tumbler to down the last of his brandy. "It's moronic. I didn't feel threatened when I came back to Corellia even though the Imps here would trip over themselves to make an example of me if they knew I was back. But now I do feel threatened and it's by the government I worked for. How dumb is that?"

Kirney turned her head sideways and scrutinized him thoroughly. "You don't trust this Iella person?"

"I do trust her," he clarified. "Iella is honest to a fault. If she said she'd erase any records of my visit from the systems then she'll do it as thoroughly as she can." He leaned back and closed his eyes for a second. "It's Doman Beruss I don't trust."

"Who would? She's a politician."

"Precisely my point. I can't shake the feeling that she'll file my name somewhere under 'potentially useful' and look it up at some point in the future when she needs someone to do her dirty work."

"My goodness, Myn," Kirney muttered and stared at him with unveiled astonishment. "You've got a serious case of persecution mania, you know that?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "But I don't think we should ignore my instincts and not prepare for the worst case."

Kirney had caught the tell-tale word he'd used. "_We_?"

"Yes, we." He took a deep breath as he worked up the nerve to ask the question he wanted to ask but didn't have the guts to ask straight away. "I know I have no right to ask you this, but ..."

Kirney held up a hand to silence him. "Stop beating around the Ch'ala tree. Out with it."

"You know how to prepare a disappearing act. If push comes to shove I want us to have an escape route. That means new identities, new story, a new life somewhere else."

Kirney stared at him totally flabbergasted, opened her mouth but all that emerged was a surprised squeak.

He was watching her nervously, chewing on his lower lip, waiting for a more definite reaction.

Finally Kirney managed to calm her racing pulse somewhat, but the astonishment still had her in its grip. "You want to ..." she stammered, not finishing the sentence as a new thought took root in her mind. "But Myn, your parents ..."

This time he interrupted her. Quite forcefully, in fact. "They know the risks. And I'd not be able to look into a mirror again if I let you disappear a second time." He shook his head. "Not gonna happen. And if you did I'd just scour the galaxy for you and I wouldn't leave an asteroid unscanned. So don't even think about it."

"You'd give up _everything_? Your past, your friends, life as you know it? Just like that?" She knew the answer already, at least her heart did, but she needed to be sure he really understood what vanishing this thoroughly required of him.

"Yes."

It was just one word, but spoken with such conviction and confidence that the last remnants of doubt fled her mind and gave way to a relief she didn't bother to hide. "Okay," she said with a shaky smile. "I will do as you ask."

"Good." He grinned like a little boy who'd just been promised a long-desired toy. "But now no more of this depressing stuff. No more politics, no more talk about intelligence services, a lack of trustworthyness or something, okay?"

"Okay." Kirney curved into his side and trailed a finger along his arm. "So what would you rather talk about?" she asked mock innocently and bit back a smile.

Myn felt his body react but he forced himself to concentrate. "Something else I wanted to ask you."

"And what would that be?"

He caught her hand to stop the distracting motion before he forgot what he wanted to ask. Seeing her twist her face into a pout he kissed her as an apology but drew back when her other hand tried to snatch his collar to draw him closer. "I'm serious, Kirney."

She gave a small sigh of exasperation. "Okay."

"I've been thinking," he began and squeezed her hand. "About my life and what I want to do with it. I had nothing else to do while sitting in the shabby hotel cube." He shrugged.

Force, he was really nervous. "Go on," she urged.

He pushed a hand through his hair, unknowingly confirming her thoughts. "The modification of the attic will not keep me occupied forever. Another six or seven months and most of the work will be done. And then what?" He was sporting that look of seriousness mingled with nervousness she'd begun to associate with him asking questions of extreme importance. "I will need a job at some point."

She was stunned. "You ... You want to work for _me_?"

"No." He choked off a laugh. "Not _for_ you, _with_ you. As your partner."

Kirney's stomach crashed to the ground and bounced. "P ... p ... partner?" she stammered, too surprised to have a coherent train of thoughts. Of course she'd wondered what he wanted to do with his life but never had it occured to her that he might want to start a business with her. _So much for that advance planning you're so proud of_, her conscience jeered at her.

Myn watched her closely, noting the wide-eyed expression of shock, and read it all wrong. His shoulders sagged in defeat, his head tilted forward. He didn't want to look her in the eyes at this moment. "Oh forget it," he mumbled trying to hide his disappointment. "It was a dumb idea."

The hurt he emanated jerked her out of the stupor. "_What?_ Oh, wait ... I didn't mean to ..." Kirney pressed her palms together and took a deep breath. It didn't help her racing pulse one bit. "Let's do that again, shall we? You're saying that you want to join my business as a partner. Did I hear that right?"

He nodded. "Correct. But only if you want to. I understand if it's not ..."

Kirney held up her hand to silence him. "Stop running yourself down, will you?" She gave him a mock scowl. "I'm just surprised. That is all."

"Why that?"

She tilted her head and scrutinized him for a moment. "I'd have thought you'd be more at home in the military world. Weapons instructor or something like that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Remember I need to keep a low profile because of my service with the New Republic. Only domestic security or the Corellian Planetary Defense Forces need weapons instructors with my particular skills. And working for either branch wouldn't exactly keep me off the scanners."

"True," she admitted, her forehead creasing in concentration. "But a joint business isn't the easiest sort of thing to pull off. You need a vacuum-tight business plan and a lot of money to get it going." She gave a minuscule shrug. "It's like flying straight head-on into a squadron of TIEs. It's not something you do without having a tactic in mind."

"I agree."

His calm demeanor was like a dash of water. Suddenly she knew he'd been preparing for this very conversation for quite some time. "And you have a plan." It wasn't a question.

He nodded. "I do. It's not set in stone and in parts it's still quite rough, but I've learned that the best plans leave enough room for adaptation and improvisation."

"So spill it," she ordered quietly. "I'm curious to hear your ideas."

"Yes, Ma'am," he returned smartly and smiled. "I haven't thought too much about the company policy in detail because I wanted to discuss that with you. Right now you're doing whatever's coming your way, be it passengers who need a quick lift or wares that require timely delivery. That's fine, but I think a company of ours should try to find some kind of market niche to occupy." He held up both hands, palms facing her when Kirney opened her mouth to object. "Not immediately, mind you. I'm quite aware that this will take years. I'm just saying that we should look at what the market needs but isn't there, yet."

"And what about the beginning? Have you thought about that, too?"

"I have." He looked down for a moment, a gesture Kirney read as embarrassment, before he sought her gaze again. "My parents made an investment for me when I was born. I gained access to this fund when I turned eighteen, but I never touched any of it. I think, however, it would do fine as my share of the assets of a joint business of ours."

Kirney narrowed her eyes. There was something about his voice that roused her _fight-or-flight_ instincts. "How much?"

"Including twenty-eight years of interests and state subsidies we're talking about a little less than thirty thousand credits," he answered quietly. "As of Monday last week."

Her eyes went wide from surprise. "Myn! That's ..."

"... not enough to form a _limited liability corporation_, I know," he interrupted her. "The law says we'd need a minimum deposit of fifty thousand credits for such a type of enterprise. But it also says that any company assets such as property, machines or shareholdings brought in by one of the partners do count towards this limit. I estimate the current value of your ship to be around seventy-five to eighty-five thousand credits, including the installed upgrades, so we would be well above the minimum."

"_Oh-kay_," she answered slowly as she failed to see the relevance what he'd said so far. "But that doesn't answer my question on what you'd do as my partner. Remember I already have Tonin for the red tape and Kolot as chief pilot and mechanic."

Myn gave her a rueful grin. "Actually that little trip to Coruscant gave me the idea. I think right now the best role for me to play, the most useful addition to your company's portfolio would be a high-security high-speed courier service." He spread his hands and began to count ideas off his fingers. "Companies may need to send important documents across the galaxy, business people may need quick transportation from one place to another, some folks may want to transfer solid credits to a bank somewhere else ... That list is virtually endless."

It made sense, she had to admit that. But there was the tiniest of problems. "But we'd need a fast courier like the _Hermes_ you got from Horn for that trip to Coruscant. I don't imagine they come cheap."

"Actually, they are," Myn disagreed gently. "I checked the market for spacecraft while I was holed up in that hotel cube. We'd need a type with some passenger capacity, three or so, and in fact a _Hermes_ would do just fine. KDY has released a successor type a few months back and so prices are going down already. We should be able to get a good one for roundabout forty thousand credits."

She arched an eyebrow. "Meaning we're still some ten grand short of that sum."

"Oh, don't worry." His grin turned sly. "I'll take out a loan. The courier would be my share of the company's assets. And then I can declare the repayments and interests as business expenses in my tax return and get favorable conditions with the tax authorities."

Kirney started laughing. He really seemed to have an answer to everything today. "What a sneaky little mind you have," she declared in between fits of laughter. "I think you'll do fine in the world of business seeing how fast you devise methods to milk credits from unlikely sources."

Myn's grin wavered as he became serious again. "So, what do you think? Do we have a deal?"

Kirney toyed with the idea of letting him stew for a little while, but that thought lasted just a millisecond. If she was honest with herself she liked his idea very much. Responsibility would be shared among them, her portfolio would be enhanced, they would be more flexible with more than just one ship and maybe, one day, she'd be able to settle down and work more like a controller. "Okay," she finally answered and held out her hand. "We have a deal. _Partner_."

Myn's grin would have lit up the interior of a black hole as he grasped her outstretched hand. Whatever comment he wanted to make was cut off when Kirney yanked him forward and fastened her mouth over his. They could hammer out the details later. _Much_ later ...

**The End (for now)**


End file.
